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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827115">Tearose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Genesis (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, F/M, Femdom, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Lingerie, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sappy romantic gestures, Sharing a Bath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:40:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A romantic getaway was already underway. A Victorian suite of apartments had been rented. Blythe, the girl Tony had been seeing for quite a while indeed, had been bathing in several bottles' worth of rosewater.<br/>It's just that Tony had been out for several hours, missing out on the relaxation. What would he be doing, exactly?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tony Banks/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tearose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is one simple fact about being an adult that serves as both an upshot and a disadvantage: there is no one around to tell you not to do stupid things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is potentially disastrous when it comes to things such as drinking mysterious liquids, but it didn't seem particularly dangerous to you to spend the salary you earned, and were therefore entitled to decide how to spend, on half a dozen bottles of rosewater, all of which you poured into the bathtub. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You watched it fill the rest of the way up, mentally reveling in the sheer inoffensive lunacy of your own actions, sitting quite naked on the edge of the tub. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stuck a hand in. Ah, too hot. A splash of cold water should fix that. The taps were old, cold against your hands, and had little decorative ridges on them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, you decided it was good enough, and gingerly lay down. Never before had the expression "smelling like a rose" been more true. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You took in a deep, satisfied breath as you lay in the still, silent comfort of the bath. Which then was interrupted by the really quite loud sound of the door opening and closing, and hard-soled footsteps making their way inside. Your eyes came open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn't quite true that there was no one around to tell you not to do stupid things. Tony certainly wasn't no one, and he warned you off things, a bit more frequently than you'd consider ideal. But you'd both had a moment of mutual stupidity in deciding to rent a refurbished Victorian apartment in a town quite near the countryside, and neither of you were regretting it at the moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Blythe? Are you there?" came his relatively high, clipped voice from inside the sitting room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You sat up, your legs still submerged. "Yeah, I'm here." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Er, and where's 'here'?" You could hear his footsteps creaking against the dark, antique floorboards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Bathroom. Specifically, the bath." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh. Well, then I shan't interrupt."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You set aside a second for smirking before shouting back, "We rented a Victorian apartment for a romantic weekend getaway and I am currently bathing in six bottles' worth of rosewater. If you don't 'interrupt' my bath, I will personally hit you over the head with a rubber chicken for excessive silliness." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You couldn't see his face, but you knew that his eyebrows had just ascended onto his forehead and then slowly decided they wanted down again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not a terribly complicated man, you know," he said, finally. "There's no need to threaten violence." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You could hear him get closer and closer to the corridor along which the bathroom was located, and led into the bedroom. You laughed a bit to yourself, but loud enough so that he could hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Be as that may, tell me you're not a complicated man one more time and I'm going to have to buy a rubber chicken." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stuck his head into the doorway, looking like he was trying not to laugh. "Well hullo to you too." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You waved at him, spraying a moderate amount of water droplets onto the carpet. "Guten tag." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a few steps into the bathroom. "See, if anyone here should be penalised for excessive silliness, it's you, isn't it? I mean, we both know you don't speak a whit of German." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Let's just both agree that if there was a law against silliness, we'd both be in gaol in an instant." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowned in a bemused sort of way. "I'm not really silly at all. I mean, if you'd ask most people, they'd say quite the opposite of me, they seem to think I'm all sort of moody and stoic and all that." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You are, trust me," you said with a nod. "But most people aren't your girlfriend."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"One, one would hope not!" he laughed. There was a bit of an awkward pause. "So what precisely am I to do here?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You fixed him with a Look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Tony. It's a bath. I struggle to think of something you could do besides get in it." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood there for a moment. "You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> right." He seemed to be considering various environmental factors, including the bathtub size, which was precisely and quantifiably Enormous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But nothing," he said, after his brief consideration, and started struggling to pull his sweater over his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed to be a monumental task, but he managed after what seemed like an eternity. After which, of course, he had to unbutton his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You watched him, tapping your fingers on the side of the bath. He turned around and gave you a "help me" kind of look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smiled and rolled your eyes. "If you can't be arsed to take off your own clothes every once and a while, you might be in trouble. After all, I can't do it for you all the time." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It might have been your imagination, but he seemed to blush as he stepped out of his trousers. "I am entirely capable of taking off my own clothes, thank you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can see that," you said, resting your chin on the edge of the tub. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, and was there quite a bit to see. Tony was most decidedly not one to show a lot of skin, but when he did, you quite considered it skin worth seeing. He was very thin, noticeably lithe (if you knew what to look for), and quite generally perfect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only light in the room was streaming in from the window, and his hair caught the golden sunlight with perfect poise. He resembled a marble statue in all ways but for one very fortunate difference. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You looked at him like you would look at a rare and wonderful painting. He looked at you with the expression of someone who's just been presented with an inexplicable yet relatively unmemorable development in their day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why have you always got to stare?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sunlit smile drained from your face. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to- I never really mean to be like that, I hope you know. I just- I stare because I can't help it. I stare because you're beautiful." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked at me as if that didn't quite register, standing there in a pool of sun, hips swaying ever so slightly. Even after all the times I'd told him that, I'd told him he was beautiful, he still seemed surprised. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You are too," he said in that tone of voice used by people who haven't quite found the right thing to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smiled, small bubbles of a laugh fizzing in your throat like champagne. "No, you. You more." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm afraid I don't quite agree, really," he laughed, "but thank you all the same." He said this last bit with a slight shrug, capping off the slightly manic energy he exuded in large quantities whenever he was remotely nervous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You moved to the other side of the bath, and patted the surface of the water as if it were a chair. "Water's fine." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clambered in and sat down beside you, knees at his chest. "Oh, this is quite nice, actually. Certainly does smell of roses, I can tell you that for a fact." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So could anyone with a nose," you countered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, maybe not if they've got a particularly bad cold, like really bad, you know?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>functioning</span>
  </em>
  <span> nose." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment passed, a tick of the clock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So are we just meant to sit here, or should we actually wash up?" he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Any good bath is a bit of both, so, uh, that. Yeah." You leaned over him to grab a bottle of soap. "Here. I've got an idea." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to look at you, with an accompanying sloshing noise. "What? What is it?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You'll see. Lay back, would you?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> "I want to know what you're trying to do," he insisted, even as he lay carefully back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm washing your hair. Here, lay your head on my lap." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved to comply, though he had to fold his legs in order to lay in front of you. He wasn't resting the full weight of his head on you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You looked down into his eyes even if he didn't fully return the eye contact, his eyes instead darting to the side as he chuckled slightly. "I hope you know this is most decidedly a bit much." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And that is a bad thing how, exactly?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved to hold up his hands, habitually, though just a little. "I never said it was." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You began to work your fingers through his hair, moving under each waving, curling strand. He closed his eyes, enjoying the massage-like motions. You could feel each hair, giving it a strangely coarse quality, which came together into an overall softness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mm. That feels rather nice," he mumbled. He opened his eyes and gave you an amused, enthused look. "Have you considered a career as a masseur?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not really. Touching strangers doesn't sound like my ideal way to spend a Tuesday." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Makes sense. Nor is it mine, although I'm sure I don't have to tell you that." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, you don't," you agreed. You took the bottle of shampoo, and poured a little on your hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mm. Vanilla," he observed, as you stared lathering it into his soft, dark curls. "What's next, have you got any soap that smells of cinnamon, or caramels?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Might do. And if you don't keep being cheeky about it, maybe I'll let you use it." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed. "No thank you, I already smell enough like a cake as it is." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As you continued to work through his hair, he closed his eyes again and relaxed, leaning his head on you like a pillow. You began to feel a small, pressing sensation, a wanting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You decided not to remind him of the exact degree of nakedness of the lap he was laying in, because he would probably begin to feel a bit awkward about it, despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing there he hadn't seen before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You combed his hair out with your hands, until it lay floating on the water's surface, spreading out from his angelic face like an aureole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You tried to get as much of the lather out of it, which was fairly easy. It just floated away like seafoam. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You washed the soap off of your hands, and ran your fingers over his jaw. He blinked his eyes open, questioningly. His irises were little stones, opaque and precious, the colour of the sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are you done with the, the hair?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah. You've just got a lovely face." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So have you." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smirked. "You weren't looking at my face a moment ago, I can tell you that much." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His cheeks pinked visibly. "I absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking at your face."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't mind you looking. I mean, they're literally right in front of you." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Blythe, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking at your face." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shrugged lightheartedly. "If you say so."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few seconds passed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So what were you doing earlier?" you asked him finally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, nothing much," he said in the exact tone of voice you would use if you had been doing something much. "I was on the telephone with someone from Charisma. There was some confusion about the promotional photos, frankly, even I don't remember." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a touch of amusement, you noticed how his hands moved in the water as he spoke, making little splish noises. He couldn't not flap his hands about when he talked, but it got a bit silly when combined with bathwater. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You didn't spend an hour and a half talking about promotional photos, did you?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, no," he admitted awkwardly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So? Out with it, then!" you teased him good-naturedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, no, no, it's a surprise! It's a surprise." He fidgeted with his hands when he said it, seeming a bit giddy. You felt the little soaring sensation of adoration in your chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trying not to smile as much as you felt like doing, which was quite a lot, you nodded coolly. "Well alright then. So, er, how long will it stay a secret?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, as long as you want it to, really," he conceded with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Tony, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I'm no good at all with surprises," you admonished him jokingly. He held up his hands. "Alright, alright, you could've just asked, you know." "Show it to me!" you insisted excitedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began to stand up, water pouring off of his skin. His hair, as one mass, sort of flopped down onto his back, although a more romantic word for it would be "cascaded". Yeah. Let's go with that. It cascaded, in dark brown waves, curls like the rebellious sea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You watched as he dried himself with a towel, smiling up at him all the while. "Wouldn't want to drip all over the carpet," he explained, rather unnecessarily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wrapped a towel around his waist, which was even more unnecessary, considering there was no one else in the apartment with you at all, but it was the sort of little thing that made everything feel new. He liked modesty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went out into the hallway for a moment, and you could hear his footsteps padding around in the soft carpet. Then there was a crinkle of paper, which quite made you wonder, and then he came back in, carrying a little pale blue paper bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You perched your chin on the edge of the tub, and you fancied you looked like some sort of indoor naiad. You raised an eyebrow. "A present?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Who for?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, it's for both of us, really," he explained. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright. Now I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> curious." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, open it, then!" he said, with what could definitely be interpreted as a nervous laugh. He set it on a little ledge right by the edge of the bath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> "I'll get it all wet," you complained, as you opened the bag. Inside, there was a bit of tissue paper, the same baby-blue colour. Little wet spots appeared on it as you rummaged around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your hand came across a soft yet solid fabric thing, which you grabbed a hold of, and pulled out. You stared at what you had in your hand. It was white, lacy, and you immediately placed it in the "rather naughty" category. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh," you said, with a small giggle. "Oh my." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You turned around to look at Tony, who was going very slightly completely beetroot-coloured. "Is this for you, or me?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He managed to take his hand off of his mouth for a second, to say, "I mean, I did say it was going to be a gift for the both of us, really." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We can't both fit in this at once," you joked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled and let out a breath of laughter, presumably at the mental image this conjured up. "No, I should say we can't." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stood up, the water on you deciding that gravity mandated that it evacuate. You held up the lace panties to yourself, looking at how they might fit. They didn't look like they would. "So are you just going to keep me guessing?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I told the lady at the shop they weren't for me..." he began. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But that just so happened to be a lie, right?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes were on the ceiling, or at least in the general vicinity. "Might've done, yeah." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stepped out of the bath, and got really very close to him. A smile came across your face. "Well, why don't you show me?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lowered his face, wearing that smile that said, "I'm trying not to laugh too hard", that one where he tried to keep his mouth closed. He put his hand to his mouth and then took it away a few times. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, why don't I," he said quietly, after a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smiled even wider, and leaned in to kiss him on the neck. "You take this," you said in a low voice, handing him the little parcel of white fabric, "and go into the bedroom. When you've got them on, tell me, alright?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded a little. "Yes, alright. That works out well, actually, 'cause there's still some, er, some bits left in the bag." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ooh. Exciting stuff." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed a little. "Yes, I suppose so. And, er, I'll be off, then." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left you with a kiss on the cheek, alone in the bathroom. You dried yourself off, and let the rose-scented water drain out of the bath. Ah, well. All good things must come to an end. Although you suspected that what was coming up next would be distinctly better than bathtime. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn't see fit to put your clothes back on. It just would've been rather silly at this point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few seconds after you had finished drying your hair, you heard Tony's voice from through the wall. "Er, Blythe? You can come out now." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You padded down the corridor and into the bedroom, which was a dark wood-paneled affair, with a cosy little bed with a quilt in the corner. Afternoon light streamed through the windows, illuminating what one might call a Sight. The capital letter was fully implied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony stood in the centre of the room, hands clasped together to one side, his face turned demurely. The flowing, angular lines of his body were interrupted by only two things: a band of white, edged with lace, dipping down over his hips and spilling over onto his thighs, and an equally lacy strip of satin, translucent in places and articulated into straps, pulled tight over his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if his body hadn't been enough on its own! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You let your eyes sweep over him, looking him up and down, over and over. You couldn't stop, couldn't get enough. You felt something welling up in your heart, and in... not your heart. Distinctly not your heart. Quite a bit farther south. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, you just settled for saying, "Oh my god, Tony, wow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>," in a awed tone of voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, there's no need to stare," he laughed, and you could just sense his self-consciousness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, actually, there really is, and that is because you are exceedingly beautiful. Like, you're usually at a ten, now you've gone to... I don't know. Eleventeen." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed. "What?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You waved your hands about dismissively. "Ignore me. I don't know either. But the point is, you look..." You paused, and looked at him again. "God, I haven't got words for it," you said, shaking your head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light streaming in through the window got caught in his hair, which had already dried a bit, and was starting to look exactly like a halo. He looked ethereal, godly, and, well, you didn't really have the proper words for it. Like a princess, honestly. A songbird could've come and perched on his shoulder and you wouldn't have questioned it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All you could do was smile, really. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Is... Is that a good thing?" he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What a silly question</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you thought. You walked over to him, and tilted your head just so, then kissed him, fully and without hesitation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your lips curled in a smile, against his. He was just so, so soft. His lips were pillow-soft, and reminded you of a warm, sleepy comfort. You were loath to stop at all, but you pulled away for breath, and just considered him a while, considered his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the amount of time you  two had been together, he still managed to look a little pleasantly dazed. He swallowed audibly, although not in a nervous way. "Is that my answer, then?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smiled at him. "What do you think?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Er, I think I'm going to take that as a yes," he said, scratching his head absently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Took you long enough," you said, with a gentle smirk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then you wrapped your hand round the back of his head and retreated into the comfort of his soft, warm lips. It was a very familiar and dear sensation to you, but it never, never even began to get old. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You still had to coax him a little before tongues got involved, which was what you were doing at the moment. Kiss him gently, stroke his hair, give a little tongue yourself as a show of good faith- you couldn't rush him, and you wouldn't want to, even if you could. You wanted to make this last, the soft probing and entwining that was beginning to happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You had a hand in the thick mass of his still-wet hair, but wrapped the other around his waist. You began to draw him close, smiling again at the feel of his skin. He pulled away a moment for breath, and you could hear it softly, right next to your ear. You dove back in, kissing him slowly and deeply. You could feel him surrender to you, something in the way he held his body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Unhhhhh." A deep, breathy moan came out of his mouth as soon as you came up for air, and you could almost picture it drifting out, like pale smoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Here. Let's just... yeah. Like that. Good," you murmured, guiding him slowly down onto the bed. You had one knee on the bed, and you moved so that you were straddling him, up on your haunches, taking yet another good, long look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body was as beautiful as ever, thin at the hips and waist, and just a bit broader in the shoulders, just right, like some divine sculptor had payed special attention to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You could see the outlines of the bones in his chest, the ridges of his sternum that trailed down into white lace and satin. The brassiere fitted him perfectly, lacy translucent baskets encapsulating absolutely nothing at all. God, that must've been the most useless bra in the known universe, except for the fact of what it served to highlight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You must've been staring for quite a while, because a lazy smile came across his face. "Er, enjoying the view, are we?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You returned a devilish grin. "Oh, god, am I ever." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then you decided that it was all well and good admiring him, but the phrase "eye candy" exists for a reason: you get to eat candy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When you lowered yourself on top of him, he likely didn't expect the kiss on the cheek you gave him, which elicited a pleasant smile and little laugh, deep in his throat. The trail of kisses you started to leave on his face and neck, however, were a little more conventional. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You pinned his hands down into the cool, soft quilt, covering them with yours. They were extremely talented hands, nimble and long-fingered, but this was your signal that he didn't really need to be touching anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile, your tongue rasped over the tiniest ghost of stubble on his chin. You could hear his breathing, which began to shudder as you worked your way down his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head was thrown back, hair was splayed out behind him over the pillow. "Ah-h!" he breathed, in response to an unexpected bite to the collarbone. You grinned like the cat who ate the canary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I suppose I won't be wearing my shirts too far unbuttoned this week," he murmured, with a little laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Suppose not," you returned. "Is that too much of a problem?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What? Oh, no, no, this is... this is perfect, thank you." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You planted a kiss in the centre of his chest, right below the lace edge of the bra. From there, you started lower and lower, tasting every inch of his golden, sun-touched skin. He tasted clean, slightly sweet, and, of course, overwhelmingly of roses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You gave him a few more sporadic bites, not too hard, but enough to make him cry out a little. Your stomach twisted in anticipation with every noise you heard from him. All the while, you could see him growing harder and harder under your ministrations, an outline emerging in the white satin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You took your hands off of his, and propped yourself up using one. "Now," you began, teasingly, "what shall we do with this?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I do wonder." His tone was fairly casual, but you'd done this enough for you to tell that if you kept this up, he would start getting desperate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You ran your fingers lightly over the defined bulge, and you could see from the expression on his face, he was biting back all sorts of moans. The fabric was thin and soft, and you could feel absolutely every detail under it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You rubbed your thumb in little circles on the soft fabric right next to his hardened cock, and he squirmed under you, murmuring, "Ha- uhh... oh god, Blythe..." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't tell me you're going to come already." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a shuddering breath, as if to steady himself. "What? No, not yet, although if you carry on like that, I might." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You thought about this for a moment. "How about- if you think you're going to, alright, you can let me know. How about, er, rosewater? Yeah. Just say 'rosewater'." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallowed. "Alright." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From there, you took a bit more care. You wanted him to last just as much as he did, so you were especially gentle in hooking your thumbs under the lace on his inner thighs, massaging the tight muscle under the skin a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"God, you're so perfect," you said, before planting a kiss on the tip of his member, which strained against the pure white satin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good," he murmured. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not surprised," you returned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, you slipped your hand inside the waistband and started pulling the white lace down his legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at you, helplessly aroused and exposed. "Blythe, please," he breathed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You lowered your tongue to his cock, a soft rosebud colour, and trailed it mercilessly down his sensitive shaft. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mm– Ah!" he cried, throwing his head back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You took him in your mouth, kissing this part of him just as passionately as you would any other part. You put a hand round to the small of his back, and moved your head and mouth in a rhythm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah! Oh, god, Blythe, don't stop!" you heard him cry. You knew exactly how he looked at this point– brow furrowed in concentration, with the wet eyes of an animal in heat, just desperate for the next scrap of pleasure you might give him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought made the pressure between your legs grow, and you moved a finger to relieve it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You swirled your tongue over his head, his shaft, the soft skin that was so hard underneath. Your stomach jolted from the pleasure you were giving yourself. You had to bite back a moan of your own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Rosewater! Rosewater! Rosewater..." he cried, trailing off as he became overwhelmed with sensation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn't stop. You let him have it, because if he felt good, you did, too. You swallowed the bitter spill that was already mostly in your throat, and let him out of your mouth, just so you could see him, panting and with a red flush to his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And with that, you finished for yourself, feeling your heartbeat, heavy throughout your body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at you, eyes wide, undone. The sight made love well up in your heart anew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hullo," you said, quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hullo," he whispered, appearing quite caught off guard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You tried to think of something to say, but eventually, all you could think of was the obvious: "Lord, I'm knackered" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mm, me too," he returned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You glanced over at the clock on the wall. "Only a quarter till four." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stretched his arms out above him luxuriously, like a cat, and sat up. He unhooked the bra, with a bit of difficulty,  and set it on the floor next to the panties. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, don't worry about those," you encouraged him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We've got, er, dinner reservations at six, haven't we?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Should we just, you know, have a bit of a kip or something?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You took a deep breath. "Mm. Yeah, that sounds nice," you said, reclining so that your head was resting on his thin, birdlike chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You looked up to see him, his beautiful face, how the sun played in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I love you," he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, you thought you'd said it, you'd been thinking it so hard. But you realised that that was a bit silly, and then gave him a kiss on the shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Think I might love you more." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not true." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Mm, don't know." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sunshine was warm and surroundingly pleasant, and so was he.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wrote this quite a while ago as a birthday gift for a friend, I hope you like it as much as she did. <br/>Please comment if you have something to say! Even though I orphaned this, I still check back to see how it's doing.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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